


Treading the Water

by MeteoraWrites



Series: Here's to High School and Hot Guys [2]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Confessions, Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Getting to Know Each Other, Insecurity, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, Pre-Slash, Recreational Drug Use, Talk of drug abuse, Trick Flufffest 2k19, mild angst with lots of cuddles and forehead touches, talk of abuse, talk of triggers, that's working it's way towards romantic, this came to me after I wrote part two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 02:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19033198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeteoraWrites/pseuds/MeteoraWrites
Summary: “It’s rude to stare,” Nick says as he exhales, curly wisps of smoke escaping his mouth with his words. He doesn’t even have his eyes open, but Troy supposes he just have heard Troy coming despite his music, or maybe he felt the vibrations from Troy’s footsteps as he entered the room.“It’s rude not to send a text to let your friend know you’re gonna hotbox your secret hideout,” Troy counters as he drops the bag of snacks on the coffee table beside the half a dozen glowing jars and the ashtray with three roaches in it. That explains how long Nick has been here, then.





	Treading the Water

It’s not very late when Troy wanders into the old house, but there’s already a haze of smoke in the air along with the smell of incense and something that might be pizza? He isn’t sure, but looking at his watch he sees that its not even 9 yet. So he imagines Nick must have been here for a while before now.

It’s been a few weeks since Nick first brought him here, and by now he can navigate the rickety floor like a pro. Stepping over boards that creak and shift under his feet to step where its sturdy and safe.

His arms are full with a bag of snacks he bought on the way here and a new box of candles to replace the ones that he burned through on the few nights he was here without Nick. 

When he enters the living room he finds the other boy sprawled on his favorite of the two couches, his earbuds in and eyes closed as he takes a drag from the join that’s held between slim fingers.

Troy can’t help but stare for a long moment. Nick always looks fascinating like this. Whole body relaxed in a way Troy can never seem to achieve no matter what he tries. He’s thought about asking Nick to let him try a hit of his joint a few times, but he always chickens out. And the other boy never offers or tries to make him do anything he doesn’t want to, so he supposes that’s a good thing. He remembers the time his dad gave him a beer to ‘try’ when he turned 16. He wanted to puke his guts out just from the smell alone.

The smell of weed in the air never bothers him like the smell of alcohol does. It just makes him kind of hungry sometimes. A contact high, as Nick called it. He didn’t really feel any different those times, though. So he isn’t sure it was really a contact high. But then again what does he know, he’s not the addict of their duo.

“It’s rude to stare,” Nick says as he exhales, curly wisps of smoke escaping his mouth with his words. He doesn’t even have his eyes open, but Troy supposes he just have heard Troy coming despite his music, or maybe he felt the vibrations from Troy’s footsteps as he entered the room.

“It’s rude not to send a text to let your friend know you’re gonna hotbox your secret hideout,” Troy counters as he drops the bag of snacks on the coffee table beside the half a dozen glowing jars and the ashtray with three roaches in it. That explains how long Nick has been here, then.

“Thought you’d be off with Jake. It’s his birthday, isn’t it?” Nick asks as he finally opens his eyes and sits up, joint now hanging loosely between his lips as he reaches out to grab the bag of goodies Troy brought and dig through them. There’s half a pepperoni pizza still sitting on the table, but he appears to have abandoned it in favor of the package of double stuffed Oreos Troy brought.

Troy wants to roll his eyes, but refrains and just grabs a slice of pizza before sitting next to Nick on the couch. “We had dinner and then his coworkers took him out for drinks. He said he wasn’t gonna get drunk, but I didn’t really wanna be around to smell it on him when he got back,” he explains with a shrug before taking a bite of the still warm pizza.

Nick hums his understanding and nods as he inhales another hit. He settles back into the couch beside Troy, body going lax like he’s melting into the cushions beside the other boy as he exhales slowly. “I get that, man. I can’t really stand the smell of alcohol either. Reminds me of when my mom goes agro. It’s so stupid that something that’s everywhere can be such a big trigger...” he grumbles before taking another hit.

“Trigger?” Troy asks. He remembers his therapist talking about them, but he still doesn’t entirely get what she was talking about. Granted she was talking about it in one of his first sessions when he wasn’t really paying attention to her.

“Yeah, man,” Nick starts as he leans forward to stub out the half-finished joint in his ashtray. “Triggers. Things that set you off. Make you freak out or get angry or whatever. We went over triggers in rehab. They made us make lists of ours for some exercise. I have a bunch of them. You probably do too, with everything you’ve been through,” he explains as he settles back and turns in his seat to better face Troy.

“Probably,” Troy parrots as he sinks down into the cushions. He doesn’t really want to think about it. It’s bad enough thinking his brother is out there drinking, even knowing their father is an alcoholic and what he did to Troy while drinking….

“You okay, man?” Nick asks around a mouthful of oreo. He looks concerned as he tosses the package aside and moves into invade Troy’s personal space, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him into his side.

“Yeah, peachy. Can we just hang out and listen to music? I’m sick of talkin’.” He really is. He wants to not think. The closest he gets to that is listening to music in the hazy rainbow glow of this rundown house with Nick.

“Sure, man. You wanna listen with me, or did you bring your own tunes tonight?” Nick asks as he shifts to grab his iPod where it ended up on the opposite end of the couch.

Troy eyes the brick of a device and considers his options. Jake helped him get some music he likes and load it onto the iPod he bought him, but he doesn’t have much to chose from. Nick has something like 2,000 songs on his and so far Troy hasn’t heard any he didn’t like.”I’ll listen with you.”

That earns him a grin from Nick, who promptly gets up and starts shoving Troy around so he ends up laying down on the couch. A minute later Nick is flopping right down with him so that they’re facing each other and he puts a single bud in his ear before putting the other in Troy’s for him.

“Why pray tell, are we laying like this?” Troy asks with a single eyebrow raised in question. Usually, they lay stretched out so they each have their own armrest to use as a pillow. This way they’re right in each other's personal space, knees bumping and their faces so close that Troy can smell the chocolate on Nicks breath mixed with the earthy smell of the weed he was smoking.

“Easier to listen together,” Nick says with a shrug as he hits play. A song with a heavy beat begins a moment later and he smiles at Troy when he sees the other boy relax a little. “Sides, you’ve got this whole depressing vibe going. Figured this might help.”

That gets a snort out of Troy. He isn’t going to argue. He does feel off. And being close to Nick usually helps him navigate all these feelings he’s having. He doesn’t feel like he has to hide them around Nick. Not like others. There’s still that lingering fear of someone lashing out for him expressing himself. It’s less than it was just a few weeks ago, but still there.

He doesn’t feel like he can breathe sometimes when it’s bad. 

“Can I…” he catches himself starting, eyes closing as he bites his bottom lip. He’s being stupid.

“Can you what?” Nick asks, his voice barely about a whisper but loud and clear where they’re so close together.

“Can I try it…” he asks, knowing Nick will understand the question.

When he doesn’t get an answer right away he opens his eyes to find Nick studying him curiously. It makes his face feel oddly warm all of the sudden and he has the desire to sink back into the couch and pretend he never asked. 

“You don’t want to. Not really. And I don’t want you to. You don’t wanna be like me, Troy…” Nick says slowly, never breaking eye contact with Troy.

Troy finds himself nodding as he tries to swallow around the lump forming in his throat. Part of him is still curious, but another part is telling him to listen to Nick here. They may be the same age but Nick’s experienced more than him. He trusts his judgment here.

“Have I told you how bad my drug problem is?” Nick asks after a few minutes of the both of them just laying there listening to a random Queen song play on a low volume.

Shaking his head slightly, Troy lets his eyes close as he shifts a little so that their legs end up tangled and in a much more comfortable position than before. It brings their bodies even closer together, the only thing between them being Troy’s arms where he has them crossed in front of himself and sort of wrapped around to hold his sides.

“My mom can’t keep anything stronger than Tylenol in the house. If I get triggered I don’t think, I just grab the closest thing I can to get high. Alicia used to be on ADHD meds when she was younger, they had to keep them at the school when I started using because I would steal them.” Nick confesses, a hint of shame in his voice at his own actions.

“How long have you been using?” Troy mumbles the question, not sure if it’s something he should ask or not.

“Since my dad died just before I turned 15. I was smoking weed with a few of the neighborhood kids before that, but after he died I got offered heroin for the first time. They couldn’t find me for a week after that. Mom was so angry and Alicia was a wreck. She used to fall asleep on the couch with the lights on waiting for me to come home…” he trails off, clearly getting lost in the memories of that time.

Troy lets his eyes open and finds Nick’s own closed, a pinched expression on his face like he’s trying to banish some bad memory but failing. He doesn’t think, just reaches out and gently grabs the back to Nick’s head, pulling him along the few inches that separate them until their foreheads are touching and their noses bump.

The unexpected action makes Nick’s eyes snap open, brown meeting blue in a brief look of shock before he relaxes and lets himself reach out and hook his own arm over Troy’s waist where they’ve settled closer together. It’s far more intimate than Troy had meant, but he isn’t good with words in situations like this and he knows Nick isn’t one to shy away from physical contact.

And to be honest, even though he shies away from it himself in most situations, he likes being like this with Nick. Before the only person he really felt comfortable being hugged by was Jake. But this is different. He can feel that it is. It’s a little awkward at times, but still comfortable despite his nerves.

Nick seems to like it too, as his eyes slip closed again a moment later and he lets out a small sigh.

“Did you ever think of running?” Nick asks, his voice soft and breath warm against the corner of Troy’s mouth where the other boy has tilted his head slightly.

Troy snorts a laugh at the question, it’s one he was asked once by Jake. One he didn’t have an answer for at the time. “I did when I was young. But we lived so far out and I was scared of going the wrong way and getting lost. I forgot about it for a long time, though. Didn’t even remember wanting to until a couple of weeks ago when I was looking at some old pictures Jake has”

“I can’t even imagine the shit you’ve been through, man. I mean, you’ve told me some, and I caught some of the story on the news the other night. But, like, I still can’t wrap my brain around it. My mom is messed up but the things your parents put you through? I’m kind of amazed you aren’t totally psycho because of it,” Nick starts to ramble. He does that sometimes, thoughts just tumbling out. It happens most when he’s high. The rest of the time he’s pretty chill about things.

“Who says I’m not?” Troy asks in all honesty. He knows his own mind. He’s had some twisted thoughts. Urges. He thinks he might even remember something about rabbits and blood from when he was really young, but he isn’t sure if that was real or a dream.

Now it’s not who snorts, eyes opening again to stare into Troy’s in the faint light provided by the handful of candles. “You spent a week in the hospital and have been in therapy ever since. You aren’t on any medications and you have yet to snap aside from punching that one kid at lunch for calling you a terrorist. I think if you were psycho we would know by now.”

“That… That’s a good point…” Troy concedes with a blink. He hadn’t thought of it like that. But then again his mind doesn’t work like Nick’s. Just like Nick’s doesn’t work like his. “Are you planning on going home tonight?” he asks, voice dropping to just above a whisper.

Nick lets his eyes close again and he hums a negative in response. “Mom was drinking so I told her I was staying with Calvin, had him call her and ask if he could take me to a move then crash at his place to get her to agree. She thinks we’re seeing Endgame for the third time.” The little smirk he has as he says it is oddly endearing, and Troy’s amused by it greatly.

“Can I stay too? Don’t feel much like going back to Jake’s tonight…” He feels stupid asking, he knows he can stay. Nick has told him before that he can and they’ve both crashed here a couple of times already But tonight feels different. They’ve never been like… this… before.

Sometimes they talk, sometimes they don't. They usually end up sleeping on the same couch now. But they’ve never ended up like this before. He isn’t sure why Nick wanted to be like this with him, but he can’t find it in himself to mind. It’s nice. Warm and reassuring in a way he hadn’t expected. It feels good to have the soft back of the couch behind him and his legs tangled with Nick’s as they breathe the same air. Even if it does smell like weed and chocolate from Nick’s breath still.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t have to ask, dumbass.” Is the only response he gets before Nick takes his arm away and twists up to grab the thin blanket that’s been draped over the back of the couch down over them. When he settles down again he pulls it up to their shoulders and resumes his position with his forehead resting against Troy’s, but before he hooks his arm over Troy’s waist again he grabs Troy’s arm and pulls it over so it’s hooked over his, mirroring the way Nick was holding him.

Troy wants to complain about how ridiculous this is, but he can’t really bring himself to. It’s nice, being so close like this. Warm and safe with good music playing in his ear.

They talk a little more, not about anything in particular but just whatever comes to mind. Eventually Troy drifts off, then Nick, who has just enough mind to turn off and drop his iPod to the floor before sleep takes him.

They both sleep better than either has a in a long time and when they wake they stay cuddled up together for a long while before they concede that they each have to go home. They agree to meet again that night, both not really wanting to leave in the first place.


End file.
